The Last Riddle
by selfishshipper
Summary: Something isn't right. The mark burns again, but the Dark Lord is dead. Someone is missing, and no one can find them. Because to all witches and wizards, they don't exist. Draco is confused, Harry is exhausted. The war is coming again. Except this time, you don't know who.
1. Chapter 1

**Boop. Hello! If you have been here long enough, you'd know that I sorta abandoned this fic a few months ago. But... IM BACK! I revised this chapter for your entertainment purposes. Enjoy!**

He sat in his office, finishing the mounds of paperwork in front of him. He pushed up his for ever sliding glasses. Kingsley had given him more work. Did it ever end? The raven set down his quill and rubbed his hand. It hurt from writing for an hour. He was about to get back to his work when he heard the scream of a child. He sighed, getting up. He walked slowly across his flat, the lights were all out so he couldn't see. He finally reached the door where the screams were loudest. He opened it slowly. He looked onward to the small wood crib that sat in the center of the room. Inside was the wailing child. His arms flapped aimlessly, punching at the air. His copper hair sticking up at all ends, just like his father's. His hazel eyes looked furiously at Harry. He walked closer to the crib, until he was looking over the crying toddler. He picked him up slowly, smiling.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked the child, who only yelled more, kicking and thrashing in Harry's arms.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you're hungry," Harry said calmly, walking out the room, his son still squirming in his father's arms. He walked over to the light switch and flipped it. The light stung his eyes. He opened the fridge and got out the small carton of milk. Putting James down in his chair, he grabbed a cup and poured the milk into it. He brought it over to his son, who was watching eagerly. He snatched it up quickly and started gulping it down.

Harry chuckled, sitting down on the couch. He looked up at the mantel. The pictures sat there, moving and talking. His eyes looked over them, first seeing James when he was only an infant. He saw the one of them at the park, and... oh. Harry's heart broke as it had a thousand times before. The woman in the picture held James. He was chewing on her fiery red hair. Her eyes sparkled in the sun. She was laughing. Harry felt a tear run down his face. It had been a year since the accident, and still he missed her. He remembered the owl that had come almost one year ago. On a cold snowy night, Heddie (his new owl) had come with a letter explaining what had happened. Ginny had been out on the field, helping with a search. They had been trying to find a loose Death Eater. They didn't know what had happened, but all the Aurors on the mission had died. A killing curse, no doubt about it. The worst part was, they never caught the rouge. Harry had never felt worse. The whole world had tried to comfort him, sending him cards and gifts. But nothing would help. His thoughts were cut in half by James' cries. Groaning, Harry got up and walked over to the chair. He picked up his son and carried him back to his room. He set him down in the crib and said goodnight. He then walked back to his own room. He couldn't finish the paperwork. He would just tell Kingsley that his son had kept him up (which was true). He changed into pjs and got in bed. Pulling the covers over his body, he thought of Hermione's words. "Harry, I know you're sad. But I think it's time you should see other people. She would want you to be happy, you know." He knew she was right, but it was hard to move on. He closed his eyes, remembering Ginny. She would want me to be happy, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

His head rested on his hand. The chair squeaked under his weight. Once again, he looked over at his son, who was playing with an action figure. His white blond hair fluffy and unkempt as ever. It was down right impossible to tame it. Scorpius looked up at his father, eyes droopy.

"Why aw you sawd Daddy?" the toddler asked curiously. Quite the talker, that one. The older blonde picked his head up.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, smiling.

"You wook sawd," Scorpius informed him.

"And you look tired," his father argued back.

"Well, I'm not tiowd," Scorpius said stubbornly.

"Then I must be miserable," Draco chuckled, standing up. Scorpius tried to get away, but Draco had already swooped down to pick him up.

"No!" Scorpius yelled, pulling away. But Draco didn't even flinch. He carried his son up stairs and to his room. It was odd, living in such a smaller house. Yet it was soothing as well. Draco brought the squirming child to his crib, where he laid him down slowly. Scorpius looked very displeased.

"I'm nowt tiowd," he said, but his eyes were drooping even more.

"Well, it you can stay up for another hour in your crib, you can stay up all night, ok?" Draco reasoned.

"Owkay," Scorpius replied. But in a second he was fast asleep. Draco smiled and whispered good night. He closed the door and ventured back to his office. There sat a large mound of work, waiting for him. He groaned. It was going to be a long night.

 **Great start, suh gud. I need a new catchphrase, one I can use w/ the HP fandom. Any suggestions? Credits will go to all ideas!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ahhhhh! I'm so sorry for the delay in chapters for this fic. I've been on vacation on busy and blah blah blah. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I really don't want to have to write this in a million times so Imma just do a blanket. From this moment forth, I don't and never will own Harry Potter**

* * *

Draco strode into his office, doing his best to look well rested. He hadn't slept all night. He dropped the papers onto his desk and sat down. He would have dozed off right then, but someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," he grunted. The door swung open to reveal a raven haired man, holding a small stack of papers. Draco groaned.

"Potter," he said to the raven.

"Hello Malfoy," Potter said, sounding glum, "I have some papers for you."

"'Course you do," Draco muttered. He took the papers that Potter was holding and read them carefully.

"Another murder," Draco asked, shocked.

"Yeah, no suspects," Potter said sadly. More and more muggles were being murdered by magic. Worst of all, they couldn't figure out who was doing it.

"It's just like when Voldemort was gaining power. But it's not possible. He is long dead," Potter said, mostly talking to himself.

"Well whoever it is, I'm sure you will save the day," Draco said sarcastically. Potter looked at him, "what?"

"Nothing, see you later Malfoy," Potter said quickly. He hurried out the door. What was that all about. Draco shook his head. He started to sit back down when something happened. Something happened that hadn't happened for a very long time. His mark burned. He winced and grabbed his arm. The pain was gone as quickly as it had come. He blinked several times. How was it possible? His mark hadn't hurt in ten years. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. What was happening to him? Draco picked his head up. He realized he was sweating. Taking out a quill, he started on the papers that Potter had given him.

* * *

Harry opened the door slowly. Mounds of paperwork sat atop his desk. Harry put his head in his hands. He was exhausted. Become an Auror, they said. All your dreams will come true, they said. Harry sat down and started to work. He picked up the first paper. It read, "Murder case #154 Celest Martinez. Age 20. Muggle born." Harry felt his heart drop a little as he read. Then, he was suddenly enraged. Because once again, the bottom line read, "Suspect:None." The murderer hadn't been caught. It kept happening. Every time they discovered another body, they looked for magical traces. The ones they found didn't match up with any wizard or witch in the system. Which meant the murderer wasn't in the system. And unregistered murderer. It was just getting better and better. As Harry filled out more papers, he heard a knock on the door.

"Enter," he said glumly. The door opened to reveal his red headed friend.

"Mornin Harry," Ron Weasley said. Harry looked up.

"Mornin," Harry responded. Ron tilted his head.

"You don't seem so happy," he said, looking worried.

"Another murder," Harry said sadly, holding up the paper. Ron sighed.

"Let me guess, the murderer wasn't caught," Ron said, sounding mad.

"They never are. I don't get it. How can they not be in the system? It's not possible," Harry ranted.

"I don't know. Every witch and wizard born gets accounted for. It's not like in the muggle world. The second the child is born, they are in the system. And you can't take yourself out. It's impossible," Ron said, sounding confused.

"Anyways, why did you come in," Harry asked, hoping to change the topic.

"Oh, yeah. I just wanted to ask if you were excited," Ron said quickly. Harry looked confused, "tomorrow? Remember?"

"Er..." Harry strained to remember. What was tomorrow?

"Honestly Harry. Tomorrow is the day you defeated Voldemort ten years ago. You know, epic battle of good and evil," Ron snickered. Harry closed his eyes. How could he forget? It was the day they celebrated all who had died in the war. He was supposed to give a big speech every year.

"Yeah, right. Sorry, just forgot," Harry said.

"You must be exhausted to not remember," Ron started, "why don't you take a vacation?"

"Because I'm Head Auror and people are being murdered. I can't just take a vacation," Harry snarled. Ron backed up.

"Alright mate, well I'll let you get on with your work. See you later," Ron said slowly, backing out of the room. He waves and closed the door behind him. Harry sighed. Memories came flooding back to him. The war, the sadness, the loss. Every year someone has an "episode" during the service. They would lash out and start screaming. Harry wondered who it would be next. Or what. He looked back to the papers. Being Head Auror sounded great during school. But now, he wanted to be anywhere else. It was way to much stress, and not much sleep. Harry closed his eyes and remembered Ginny. He did this at times when the world seemed to be against him. She would tell him to simply punch the sadness away. To keep persisting. Harry felt a tear creep up in his eye. He missed her so much. He then felt a surge of anger. They had confirmed that the person had murdered her was the person who was murdering others. Harry had sworn he would find then and send them straight to Azkaban. No trial. It was the first time he had ever really been like Voldemort. He hated himself for it. He was not Voldemort. He knew that. He just... acted like it sometimes. He sighed and got back to the mounds of paperwork in front of him.

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 **More paper work! Hurrah! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review!  
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